Then Ling's steps slowed.
Not by choice.
Her breath came uneven now, chest heaving hard. Each blink smeared the world, rain and blood blending into something dizzying and unreal.
Her knee hit the ground first.
Then both of them went down.
Mud swallowed their boots as Ling dropped to a seated position, back slamming against a jagged rock. She kept Rhea upright even as her own body gave up, arms still locked around her like instinct had replaced thought.
For a second, everything spun.
"Ling—!" Rhea caught her face, panic tearing through her voice. "Hey— look at me—"
Ling forced her eyes open.
"Still… here," she muttered, more stubborn than conscious.
Blood kept running.
That was unacceptable.
With shaking hands, Ling reached for the hem of her shirt. She didn't ask. Didn't explain. She dragged it up and over her head in one rough motion, rain immediately hitting bare skin.
Cold sliced into her.
She folded the shirt quickly, efficiently — military precision even now — and pressed it hard against the wound, tying it tight around her head.
The bleeding slowed.
Ling exhaled sharply, then leaned back, eyes closing for half a heartbeat too long.
She was left in her sports bra, muscles tight and defined, skin slick with rain, chest rising and falling hard.
Rhea stared.
Not at the skin.
At the fact that Ling was bleeding, shaking, still trying to stay upright.
"You idiot," Rhea whispered, voice breaking despite her anger. "You're hurt because of me."
Ling opened one eye, unimpressed even now. "You talk too much."
Rhea laughed once — sharp, hysterical — then it collapsed into something raw. "You didn't have to— you could've let me—"
"No," Ling cut in, suddenly fierce despite the weakness. "Don't finish that sentence."
Silence fell heavy between thunderclaps.
Rhea shifted closer without asking, pressing her body against Ling's side, trying to share warmth, hands trembling as she held the edge of Ling's sports bra like it was an anchor.
Ling stiffened for half a second.
Then didn't move away.
Rain drummed down relentlessly. The wind howled over the ridge, cruel and unyielding.
Rhea tucked her face into Ling's shoulder, voice muffled. "You're freezing."
Ling smirked faintly. "I've survived worse."
Rhea pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes glossy, furious and terrified all at once. "Stop pretending you're indestructible."
Ling met her gaze.
For once, she didn't argue.
Her jaw tightened instead.
"If I pass out," Ling said quietly, "you listen carefully. You stay here. You don't move. Rescue will come when the storm clears."
Rhea shook her head violently. "No. Don't you dare talk like that."
Ling's lips curved — not teasing, not cruel.
Tired.
"You're scared," she said softly.
Rhea swallowed, hands fisting in Ling's damp clothes. "I am."
Ling leaned her head gently against Rhea's — careful of the wound — letting their temples touch.
"Good," Ling murmured. "That means you're still alive."
Above them, thunder rolled again.
They forced themselves up again.
Ling pushed off the rock, jaw clenched, vision swimming. Her legs obeyed on will alone. One step.
Then another.
She stumbled.
Hard.
Rhea reacted without thinking — arms shooting out, grabbing Ling's waist, trying to steady her. The motion was rushed, messy, desperate.
A sharp tear cut through the rain.
Rhea gasped.
"Ah—!"
She hadn't felt it at first — only the sudden pull, the violent jerk at her stomach. Her navel piercing had caught in the half-open zip of Ling's jacket she was wearing.
She'd yanked instinctively.
Blood welled immediately.
Red against pale skin, rain washing it downward in thin streaks.
Rhea sucked in a breath, hand flying to her stomach. "Shit—"
Ling turned too fast.
"What— Rhea—"
She saw the blood.
Something dark flashed across Ling's face — not panic, not fear.
Fury.
"Why would you pull like that?" Ling snapped, voice hoarse, reaching out before stopping herself. "Are you insane?"
Rhea's lips trembled despite her glare. "I was trying to keep you standing!"
The wind slammed into them again, colder now, crueler.
Rhea swayed.
Just slightly.
But Ling caught it.
Her hands came up, firm on Rhea's shoulders. "Hey— look at me."
Rhea tried to focus.
The world tilted.
Her head knocked lightly against Ling's shoulder as the cold finally took its toll, her body shuddering once, then again.
"I'm fine," Rhea lied weakly.
Ling cursed under her breath.
She pulled Rhea closer, one arm wrapping around her waist — careful now, painfully careful — the other bracing her own balance.
"You're bleeding," Ling said, quieter.
"So are you," Rhea shot back, but her voice lacked bite now.
Rain soaked them both through. Clothes clung. Teeth chattered. Blood mixed with mud, with rain, with exhaustion.
Rhea's forehead rested briefly against Ling's chest, her breath uneven. "If we die here," she muttered, "I'm haunting you."
Ling huffed a breath — half laugh, half pain. "You already do."
Rhea looked up at her sharply.
Ling didn't realize what she'd said.
She adjusted her grip instead, anchoring Rhea against her side, forcing herself forward again.
"Lean on me," Ling ordered. "This time properly."
Rhea hesitated.
Then obeyed.
Step by step, they moved — slower now, weaker, but together — two stubborn hearts refusing to fall at the same time.
The mountain still roared.
But neither of them let go.
Ling took two steps.
The third never landed right.
The world tilted violently — edges bleeding into each other, rain turning into streaks of silver and black. Her grip on Rhea tightened once, reflexive, then loosened just enough to scare her.
"Ling—?" Rhea said sharply.
Ling blinked hard. Once. Twice.
The ground swayed.
"Vision's… blurring," Ling muttered, more annoyed than afraid. "Give me a second."
Rhea didn't give her one.
She looked past Ling's shoulder, eyes scanning desperately through the rain and mist — and then she froze.
"There," Rhea said, breath hitching. "Ling— there's something there."
Ling followed her gaze, squinting through blood, rain, and dizziness.
A shape.
Half-hidden behind rock and scrub.
Small.
Low.
A hut — old, dusted with mud, roof bent but standing. Not abandoned completely. Not safe. But solid enough to exist.
Rhea grabbed Ling's face, forcing her to look again. "Do you see it? Tell me you see it."
Ling swallowed, nodding once. "Yeah. I see it."
Relief hit Rhea so hard her knees nearly gave out.
"Come on," she said urgently, sliding her arm tighter around Ling's waist. "Just a few steps. I've got you."
Ling tried to protest.
Her mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
That scared her more than the pain.
They moved — Rhea guiding now, determination burning through fear. Each step was careful, counted. Ling's weight leaned heavier with every meter, her breath shallow, unfocused.
Rain lashed their backs.
Thunder rolled again, farther this time.